


Let the Fire Take Our Bodies This Night

by EmAndFandems



Series: of names and holiness [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Podfic Available, crowley loves aziraphale so much more than himself, theological pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: The first time saying Aziraphale's name burns Crowley, he's not expecting it.





	Let the Fire Take Our Bodies This Night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely GOBB folks (and made possible by that one video of every time they say each other's names, by @emblian on tumblr).

The first time it burns him, he's not expecting it. Crowley passes off the flinch as the sun in his eyes. He's used to helldark spaces, after all, and it’s a bright enough day (for now). It makes sense. Azi-- The angel doesn't question it. Crowley makes a mental note, files it away, and takes better care of it than the rest of his cranial paperwork.

The second time, he knows to be prepared. It's been thousands of years. He cannot be ready. He says it anyway. "Call Aziraphale," he tells the car, and swallows down the bite of it as a matter of necessity; he's got an Antichrist in the backseat and he can't afford to be fussy about a little thing like this. His throat protests. He ignores it.

The angel picks up. Crowley isn't sure what possesses him, but he says it again. "Aziraphale," and his mouth is parched dry and splitting him in half. And yet he knows the angel's smiling on the other end of the phone, so what does it matter? What difference does it make if he can taste hellfire and damnation on a molecular level, if the angel's smiling somewhere? Especially if it's all going up in flames soon enough.

He's pretty sure the next time will be the last. "Aziraphale!" screamed raw and cracked and empty, alone and burned and burning. "Aziraphale!" shouted into the fire, "Aziraphale!" scorching his tongue and ruining his lips and none of it matters, because the angel isn't here.

But it's not the last time. A voice in a bar and he knows, he  _ knows, _ but he has to check, and: "Aziraphale," he breathes. He's  _ here, _ so Crowley doesn't give a damn about the searing heat behind his teeth. He's  _ here. _

Crowley said he'd come to the angel, anywhere, and now he's got to make his entrance. Holding himself and a car together through sheer force of will, already ought to be burnt to a crisp, might as well make a production of it. "Hey, Aziraphale!" he calls, with his trademark swagger and a smug grin. The world is in middle of ending and his whole body hurts. This is nothing. He can handle it.

He loses track, now. Everything is falling apart and he can't hold back any longer, can't bother stopping himself when Aziraphale _Aziraphale_ **_Aziraphale_** is here and next to him and they're both in so much trouble that what is another burn, another stifled wince, another twinge of pain? What is any of this compared to his angel?

**Author's Note:**

> ### Works Inspired By This One:
> 
> [[PODFIC] Let the Fire Take Our Bodies This Night,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357829) by [D20Owlbear.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!


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